Breaking up is hard to do.
By Stephen A Abell - Friday 26th February 2021.
Number Of Words - 300.
I felt the tears coarse down my cheeks. From the speakers' Rod crooned, "I don't want to talk about it," sobbing, I sang along, "how you broke my heart." Yeah, that's right I cried. Don't make such a tremendous thing of it. We're supposed to talk more now. You know, about our feelings and such. It's a new dawn of men bearing their hearts and fears.
So man-up and get used to it.
Anyway, I got up, brushed the tears away, and walked over to the photograph. You remember the one(?) The one I took of you on our honeymoon in Dubai. Damn, you looked so splendid. Your eyes had that newly-wed sparkle and a hint of the pleasures to come. It was the best of times for me.
Looking at your oh-so-handsome face, caused my heart and soul to plummet into an endless pit of sorrow. One, I didn't know I possessed.
Nearly dropping you in my sudden forlornness, I returned you to your rightful place. Hiding the stain on the wall.
What went wrong?
Was I too old? Were you too young?
Maybe I was too complacent? Perhaps you were insecure?
My looks aged. Your ruggedness honed.
My career took up too much time. Whilst your joyfulness eroded.
I can't criticize you too much for your straying eyes, can I(?) But, you were so vain you thought life was about you. You cared little for me.
At the start, you cared.
So, what becomes of the broken-hearted?
Well, for you: You literally lost your head. But you shouldn't have scorned me, and you shouldn't have returned for your belongings?
As for your new lover... let's see how he reacts to a Don Corleone moment. When he awakens tomorrow with your ravishing severed head in his lap.